


If only one night (6/7)

by In_Arcadia_IO



Series: If only one night [6]
Category: LOTR RPS AU
Genre: Alternate Universe, LOTR RPS AU - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Arcadia_IO/pseuds/In_Arcadia_IO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In a different world, Orlando Bloom is a hired assassin. But what happens when he gets too close to his target?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	If only one night (6/7)

Six - Tonight's the night

Later, Orlando couldn't say what had made him stop that taxi and give the driver Viggo's address. Had it been Sean's voice again? Sean's message had left no room for interpretation and that he wouldn't accept a failure on Orlando's part was equally apparent.

Why didn't Orlando tell the taxi driver to take him straight to the airport? Sure, there was still ample time until his flight was scheduled, but he could have taken another flight, the earliest machine departing that morning. Just leave the country as soon as possible.

Instead, a little while later, he found himself standing in front of Viggo's house, an elegant, discreetly modernized building. And the pistol was still in his jacket.

All the windows were dark. Was Viggo still at the gallery? Was he already asleep?

Again, locks didn't present any major obstacle.

'What am I doing here? What am I doing here?' That question repeated itself on end in his head.

Yet, at the same time, Orlando felt strangely detached. It was as if he could watch himself from the outside, how he opened the doors, quickly and without making any noise, how he mounted the stairs leading up to the first floor, very, very quietly, constantly checking whether there was any sign of Viggo somewhere.

Finally he found the right door and, like in a trance, he entered. His fingers closed around the pistol.

It would be so easy. It would be only a matter of seconds. The target would jerk a bit in his sleep, as if perturbed by bad dreams. His head would fall to one side and then the pillows would colour themselves red.

It had always been so easy.

Cautiously, Orlando crept closer. It was not very dark in the room as Viggo hadn't drawn the curtains. The carpets absorbed his steps completely. He stopped in front of the bed and studied his surroundings in the dim light.

Next to the bed, there were several piles of books and magazines; the only sign of someone inhabiting the room that was otherwise almost empty. Only a frail sculpture, consisting of hundreds of little glass beads was standing in one corner. No sign of Viggo's clothes, not one superfluous item, somehow fitting of the man he had met.

Orlando wondered how the sounds of a gunshot, if not muted, would resonate in the emptiness of this room.

For lack of a chair, Orlando sat down on the bed, watched himself watching the sleeping man. Viggo lay on one side, his head buried into the pillows. He didn't sleep very peacefully. His breathing was irregular and from time to time he was making little groaning noises in his sleep.

And then Orlando made another crucial mistake. Without thinking he swiped a strand of Viggo's hair from his forehead and Viggo woke up with a start, turning around so that he lay on his back now.

"What? Who's that?"

With one quick motion Orlando straddled him, holding up the pistol. "Don't move."

Viggo's eyes widened, but apart from that he remained utterly calm. "You again." It wasn't even a question, more a statement, as if Viggo had almost been expecting him.

"Yes, me again. Weren't you so keen to meet your "angel" face to face?" Orlando's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "It's not quite like you imagined it to be, is it?" Slowly, almost caressingly, he moved the gun along the side of Viggo's face.

"You were right about everything. About me. About why I'm here. Shouldn't you be afraid now, Viggo?"

Viggo looked at him for a long moment, his eyes were sparkling in the dark. "If you had wanted to kill me, you could have done it already."

"Maybe I want to have some fun first. So that …" Orlando settled himself down on Viggo's thighs ignoring that weird butterfly feeling fluttering about in his stomach. "I get into the "mood" for it."

"Why do you act like this?" Viggo's voice was hoarse, but controlled. "This is not you."

"What do you know? Seems you're harbouring some sentimental feelings for me, God knows why. But what do you really know about me? Nothing."

"No, I don't, but …"

Viggo tried to lift his hands, but Orlando pressed the gun to his face harder. "I said don't move."

"Do you need that so desperately, this feeling of being in control?" Viggo took a long, deep breath, his eyes never leaving Orlando. "You don't need a gun to control me …"

White-hot shivers flashed upside down Orlando's body at these words. He swallowed hard. Involuntarily, he shifted his position, but that only brought them closer. Viggo was covered with nothing but a light blanket; Orlando could feel his thighs underneath, solid and strong.

For a moment, neither of them moved. It was absolutely quiet in the room.

The quiet before the storm, those moments when the air's laden with electricity, ready to burst, seconds before thunder and lightning and rain will come down.

There seemed to be some weird kind of energy between them, too. All of a sudden, Orlando felt light-headed, as if there was too much oxygen in the air or too little.

_This is not really happening or is it?_

Nothing had gone according to plan that night. In fact, things were spinning out of control more and more. Worst of all, he had come to a point where he didn't even mind anymore.

A faint breeze from the door made the glass bead mobile jingletingle ever so slightly.

And this time, when Viggo's hands came to rest on his thighs Orlando didn't stop him.

"Why did you come back? Why are you here? Tell me." A voice like sand carried away by the wind, across the endless desert planes and off into the night.

Mesmerized, Orlando watched how Viggo's hands moved slowly up his thighs. He could feel the warmth emanating from these hands. He saw how the muscles flexed on Viggo's bare arms as the hands wandered higher and higher, not hesitating for a second when starting to unzip Orlando's leather jacket.

"What do you want, Orlando?"

Change of air, shifting of perspectives, a planet suddenly spinning out of axis. From one second to the next things were different. Felt different.

And Orlando was no longer watching from the outside, was no longer some detached bystander. He became Orlando again, willingly and unconditionally giving himself over to Viggo's hands.

Slowly, Viggo pulled the jacket down Orlando's shoulders.

Maybe Viggo's voice was to blame for everything. Viggo's voice was so different from Sean's, low, too, like thunder rumbling in the distance, but the note of menace was missing. This voice was warm and inviting, carrying with it red-golden promises, glowing like embers in the dark, promises that made Orlando's mind spin.

Orlando's head fell backward and he allowed himself to close his eyes.

At the same time, his fingers loosened their grip. The pistol dropped from his hand and landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Orlando noticed it but it seemed no longer important. It seemed just some minor detail, nothing compared to Viggo's hands roaming his body.

Soon, Orlando's shirt was gone and Viggo began to lick and kiss his way up Orlando's upper body. Orlando's breath hitched when Viggo's tongue reached his nipples and the slight tug of Viggo's teeth went straight down to his cock. He knotted his fingers into Viggo's hair, pulling him even closer.

"Is this what you want?" Viggo whispered against Orlando's neck, breathless.

And Orlando could only answer, "Yes. Yes."

Then Orlando reached down and, in a wild passion, pulled the shirt over Viggo's head. He desperately wanted to touch Viggo now, run his hands over Viggo's broad chest, down his abs and over the flat plane of his stomach. Viggo groaned.

And up Orlando's right hand went again, languidly tracing the line of Viggo's lips until Viggo opened his mouth and let him in. Orlando moaned quietly, imagining that it was not his finger sliding in and out of Viggo's mouth, filling, fucking that welcoming, wet heat.

He pressed himself up to Viggo, so hard already, so much in need of some friction. But Viggo did nothing to ease that ache, on the contrary, made things only worse by spreading his fingers over Orlando's buttocks, pressing hard.

Orlando felt like melting when one of those fingers deliberately stroked his crease, the touch so very … intense, even through the rough garment. At the same time Viggo's other hand slipped down the waistband of Orlando's jeans.

"Ever since I saw Cate's work I've been wondering whether you actually existed. I wondered how your voice would sound, what colour your eyes would have in reality." He trailed a finger along the side of Orlando' face. "I never thought that I'd talk to you. Or touch you. I thought you were nothing but a fantasy."

"I'm real. And I'm here now."

"Yes, you are. And I still don't know anything about you. What I do know should be enough to put me off. Yet it doesn't … It's madness, but I don't care."

Leaning into his touch Orlando whispered. "I don't care either."

When Viggo touched him again, there were no snakes winding around Orlando's limbs, trying to choke him; Viggo's seduction was of a different nature, scorching flames and light air.

And he seemed so sure.

"I want to see you naked, boy." Viggo's voice was bright-hot fire against his skin and Orlando felt like falling, spiralling down, down …

With closed eyes he touched Viggo's face, fingers smearing a wet trace on Viggo's lips and cheeks, the stubble rough under his fingertips. Like from afar he heard himself say, "Then do something about it."

"Get up on your knees."

Orlando sat up, kneeling in front of Viggo now. In a flash Viggo's hand was at his fly, closing around him, touching him through the denim. Orlando bucked into that touch, getting more and more restless.

"What are you waiting for?"

Viggo didn't answer, just studied him, pausing for a tiny moment, hands on Orlando's hipbones. Orlando felt that Viggo's hands were trembling slightly. Then, with one fast move, Orlando's jeans together with his boxers were pulled down.

Orlando gasped when the air hit his skin and Viggo's hands came to rest on his thighs. From there, the energy seemed to transfer itself onto Orlando, wildfire sparkles igniting under his skin.

Quickly, he eeled himself out of his clothes, jerking off shoes and socks. He pushed Viggo down on the bed draping himself luxuriously over him, contact from toe to shoulder, inhaling the scent of Viggo's skin, running his fingers over Viggo's shoulders and down his arms. His hands closed over Viggo's, pinning him down.

Viggo suppressed another groan as Orlando deliberately rubbed up to him, pressing his own hardness against the line of Viggo's erection that was still caught in his pyjama pants.

"And what I want now is to fuck that inquisitive mouth of yours. Stop it from questioning me."

Viggo bit his lower lip, audibly drawing in air. "My questions have all been answered, the last one … right now."

Orlando smiled. "That's good, there's no need for talking any more."

Taking his time, Orlando moved his cock up Viggo's body, from hipbones and navel to nipples and collarbones, finally tracing the curves of Viggo's lips.

Viggo's breath came faster now and the press of his hands on the small of Orlando's back increased.

"Now, tell me. Is that what you want? Blow your “angel” before you fuck him?" Orlando's voice was thick with arousal. Entranced he watched his cock slip wetly in and out of Viggo's mouth. Viggo looked up to him and that set Orlando truly on fire; it was nothing but raw lust he saw in Viggo's eyes.

Orlando knew he wouldn't last long under that gaze. His head fell back again, mouth opened, gasping for air like a drowning man and, yes, he was drowning now.

His eyes fell shut. He only wanted to feel. How Viggo's tongue circled him, thick, lavish licks, before Viggo took him deep and began to suck him in earnest.

And very soon Orlando didn't care anymore whether Viggo could take it or not, but Viggo's firm grip on his back only encouraged him, and began to thrust into Viggo's mouth furiously. He needed to come so badly now.

All had led to this.

Viggo's lips around his cock.

Wet. Hot. Tight.

So perfect, so …

Behind closed eyelids Orlando saw the "Heart of Darkness" again. It was alive now, dark crimson blood pulsing through its arteries. It was contracting and expanding faster and faster, filling his whole vision.

With a last conscious effort he wanted to withdraw from Viggo's mouth, but Viggo held him tight.

Orlando came long and hard.

And Viggo swallowed it all.

Pulling out Orlando leant against Viggo, half-conscious. Apparently, the desert wind had blown his bones away; he was nothing but a scarecrow now, dangling in the wind. And above him there was an endless sky with a huge red heart bleeding away into the distance.

Slowly his breathing returned back to normal. And all the while Viggo held him.

' _Why does he cling to a scarecrow?_ Orlando mused dreamily. He felt like drifting off. Falling asleep while leaning on Viggo. Falling asleep under fingers gently caressing his hair, his shoulders and his back.

At some point, Viggo laid him down on the mattress and rolled off to one side, starting to rummage under the bed. But Orlando didn't want to open his eyes, never ever again, didn't want to find out what Viggo was doing, just wanted to doze off and remain in that blissful nirvana for just a few more seconds.

Everything had gone wrong. Yet it seemed quite alright the way it was.

Actually, it was more than alright when a slick finger began to move along his crease, lightly, but so very persistently, stroking his perineum and his anus. Orlando moaned quietly when the finger finally went in and his eyes shot open when that finger found the right spot right away.

"You don't give me much time to recover, do you?" he gasped, realizing he sounded way too eager for opting out.

"No, no time at all," the desert-wind voice rasped. "If you could see yourself now. You look so fuckable."

Orlando's breath hitched when a second finger was added, and then a third, stroking him, teasing him, working him up and he was getting hard again.

"What?" he blurted, when the fingers were suddenly withdrawn.

Viggo smirked. "Can hardly do you with my pants on."

"Hardly," Orlando answered watching how Viggo pulled his pyjamas down. Involuntarily his legs fell apart when Viggo's erection sprang free - God what a sight. All of a sudden, Orlando's mouth felt very dry.

Viggo knelt between his opened legs, his swollen cock nudging slightly against Orlando's entrance. Then Viggo leaned over him and they were so close now and Orlando ached to feel Viggo's skin on his.

"Who would have thought the night would end like this?"

"The night's not over yet."

"Right. Fortunately not. Because I'm still not done with you."

Orlando shivered. At first, he didn't quite realize what was expected from him when Viggo handed him a small tube.

"Now slick me up," Viggo demanded.

"Yeah." Orlando felt a grin spread on his face, and suddenly he felt wide awake again.

Now it was his turn to work Viggo up, to make him lose control. Copiously he spread the thick fluid over Viggo's length, taking his time to massage it in and, ah, the man was so hard.

Soon Viggo stilled him. "Think that will do."

Languidly, Viggo's hands moved up Orlando's thighs, first he lifted one leg and then the other up to his shoulders. Tenderly, he pressed a kiss onto the hollow of Orlando's knee. "Are you ready?"

"I wish you'd stop all these questions and carry on. Just …" He couldn't complete his sentence. Red-hot pain shot through his body when Viggo entered him.

"God, you're tight," Viggo growled out.

Orlando panted. "Just … just give me a sec."

"Yeah." Viggo stopped and leaned down on him again, slowly licking up the side of his neck. "I'll give you all the time of the world".

And then he kissed him.

Yes, they were kissing now, kissing for the very first time, and Orlando could taste himself in Viggo's mouth and he began to open up to Viggo's tongue and to Viggo's cock. And when Viggo started to move again it was different already. And soon those little moves weren't enough and Orlando wanted more, much more.

Each time Viggo hit his sweet spot Orlando cried out, whimpering into Viggo's mouth as they were still kissing. Kissing and fucking. There were no more hearts now, no more scarecrows. Just the two of them and nothing else.

Meanwhile Viggo was panting, his forehead and his shoulders were damp. His thrusts came faster and faster.

For a tiny second Orlando wondered what colour Viggo's eyes were, they were so dark now, he wondered … and then he forgot what he was wondering about as that raw energy between them finally sprang free.

Red suns falling down on them.

Orlando came hot against his own stomach and then Viggo came, too, shuddering, moaning, filling Orlando with liquid heat.

For a while they lay like this, very still, just holding each other.

No memories, no visions. Silence.

After a while, Orlando opened his eyes again. "Viggo …"

"Yes." Viggo looked at him dreamily.

Orlando framed his face with his hands.

"This is all mad, the whole evening was … ," he sighed. Suddenly, there was so much he wanted to tell Viggo. But how to say it? Where to start?

"I'm glad things happened this way."

Viggo's glance was absolutely unfathomable, for a second something like a smile flitted over his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had heard. "So am I."

"Now isn't that romantic?" said a cold voice from across the room. "Next thing you'll be confessing each other undying love and then you’ll live together happily ever after."

Orlando's head shot around towards the voice.

"Sean!"

"Yes, my little slut. I was right to be suspicious. I knew that something had gone wrong after I spoke to you. I certainly didn't expect to find this. But then, it shouldn't come as such a surprise. Always eager to spread your legs, aren't you, Orlando? For a good fuck you easily forget your principles. And he's a great fuck, too, isn't he, Viggo?"

Viggo sat up quickly. "Get out of my house. Now."

Sean left his place near the door and walked over to the mobile. The glass beads started to jingle under his touch. "But of course, I'll be gone in a minute. Though, on second thought, I think I could spend the rest of the night watching you make that little rentboy whimper and scream. But that's not why I came. Where's the "Heart"?

"Out of your reach. Already on its way to its new destination. Before I left the gallery tonight I made sure it was sent off safely. Wasn't easy finding someone at this hour, but fortunately I have friends. Friends I can trust."

Sean's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Indeed, hired contractors can be unreliable. And that's a risk I can't afford anymore."

Orlando saw a pistol flash in the dim light. Reflexively, he waved his hands. "No, Sean. Stop. It's too late now."

"Quiet, Orlando. You aren't so naïve to believe I’ll let you go after that disaster. Nor your new friend."

Without any further warning Sean raised the pistol and fired.

In that moment several things happened simultaneously. Orlando was pushed aside. There were several more shots. Something hit his head hard and then everything around him went dark.

He fell. Into a deep, black hole he fell. And the velvet quiet of the night enveloped him.


End file.
